


A Collection of Writings That May or May not go Places

by cheshireArtist



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Original Work
Genre: A series of unrelated stories, Angst, Depictions of Death, Fantasy, From creative writing, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description, I wrote these all for a collage class and wanna share, Memory Loss, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Poetry, Supernatural Elements, Violence, only one of the stories has norse mythology mentioned, scifi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireArtist/pseuds/cheshireArtist
Summary: This is a collection of my original writing pieces from a creative writing class I took in college earlier this year. I don't know if I'll be adding to this at all after I post the six stories that I have polished for the final.1 - Snapshots2 - Waking Up to a Brand New You3 - Hole in the Sky4 - Moonless Night (Free-verse Poem)5 - Witching Hour6 - Hela





	1. Snapshots

**Author's Note:**

> Like I had said, this a collection of short stories that I have sitting in my folders on Google Drive form my creative writing class. He had given us a ton of freedom for the stories that we would write and present to the class so there's a range here. This isn't all the stories I wrote, just the ones that I had polished for the final. I had at least three or four more that I am personally not as happy with as these. 
> 
> If you like my personal writings I'll consider posting some of my newer stuff on this site as well.

**CODY**

Anxiety was always something I’ve dealt with in my day to day life. That twisting, suffocating feeling in the core of my chest that seems to never leave. Sometimes it’s about people. Okay...most of the time it’s about people. For some reason I am cursed with this kind of hyper awareness about how they look at me. When I speak I notice their almost immedia te annoyance. I can pretty much guess what they’re thinking. Which would be, “_What kind of human being can’t even articulate a single sentence?_”. Well...maybe not in those words.

It’s probably more along the lines of “_Wow, when will this idiot ever shut up?_” 

I’ve literally heard people groan when ever I was picked on to answer a question in class. It takes me forever to even say a simple answer because I stumble over my words, and when I do that I compulsively apologize, then stumble some more. It’s a never ending cycle once it starts. I’ve stopped actively raising my hand at this point and tried to make myself as small as possible (which, by the way, is hard when you are one of the tallest kids in class). I’ve contemplated quitting talking all together since I’m not all that good at it to begin with, honestly. 

There’s a very small number of people I even talk to anymore anyways. My mom and my twin sister Larisa to clarify. There used to be a third. His name is Kiho Beom and things between us had gotten, well, complicated. Of course it’s my fault. I made things awkward with my stupid, stupid feelings and now he won’t answer my texts. 

With all of that being said...how on earth did I end up here? In the middle of an old church full of people I barely know (with the exception of Kiho and Larisa) to play a game that I honestly have the foggiest idea of  how to play.

* * *

**ADRIAN **

You kind of know right away when you are someone’s second choice. Personally, I think I was probably Octavio's last option. He and I get along about as well as oil and water, but Luann is friends with Drusia who is in Octavio’s clique so...I got dragged along if only to keep an eye on her. I wouldn’t trust that sleeze ball of a man with anyone, dick or no dick. It’s well known that Octavio will fuck anything that moves. How that asshole ended up so popular I have no idea. How he manages to be in a long term relationship with anyone is also beyond me. Pythus must have blinders on. 

Apparently, for this “game” to work there has to be twelve people exactly. I suppose that’s why they roped in Cody Winters and me. I’m basically that one goth kid your parents warned you about and Winters is...socially inept? I’ve never really talked to him before, actually. I just know him as the mousy kid with the awful stutter. Up until recently he hovered between his sister and that Korean kid...Kiho? I don’t have enough classes with him to remember his name, honestly. 

I have my arms crossed, and find myself leaning against the back of an old pew. I count the kids...hmmm...someone’s late. I kind of hope they don’t show up. It’s making Octavio pissy and it’s entertaining. Maybe he’ll let us leave if this last persons doesn’t show up. I would rather be doing anything than this right now anyways. 


	2. Waking Up to a Brand New You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a collection of my original writing pieces from a creative writing class I took in college earlier this year. I don't know if I'll be adding to this at all after I post the six stories that I have polished for the final.
> 
> 1 - Snapshots  
2 - Waking Up to a Brand New You  
3 - Hole in the Sky  
4 - Moonless Night (Free-verse Poem)  
5 - Witching Hour  
6 - Hela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I had said, this a collection of short stories that I have sitting in my folders on Google Drive form my creative writing class. He had given us a ton of freedom for the stories that we would write and present to the class so there's a range here. This isn't all the stories I wrote, just the ones that I had polished for the final. I had at least three or four more that I am personally not as happy with as these.
> 
> If you like my personal writings I'll consider posting some of my newer stuff on this site as well.

**Waking Up to a Brand New You**

* * *

The lights above him were blinding and hummed with an ever present florescent buzz. He squeezed his eyes shut as soon as they opened, feeling his entire body tense and cringe beneath the paper thin sheet covering it. The thoughts in his head were swirling at such and nauseating pace that he couldn’t quite keep up with them. He gagged, rolling over enough to reach the edge of the bed and hang his head over. Nothing came up but a thick, unnaturally pearly colored mucus and his own trembling breaths. 

Breath in...breath out...breath in...breath out…

Slowly, he sat back up, eyes thankfully more used to the light, though his head was throbbing, and his hands were still shaking and he felt over all clammy and tired. He leaned back against the headboard and stared blankly around the room. Overall, it wasn’t much but four white walls, a white tiled floor that he just sullied and a pale blue privacy curtain cutting him off from the other side of the room. There weren’t any windows and it smelled like disinfectant. He looked over to his left and almost jumped, startled by the seemingly suddenly appearance of a hanging bag of clear fluid...an IV? He followed the tube down to his left wrist...ah...he didn’t notice that earlier. Too busy throwing up, probably. 

“Ah, you’re awake, Mr. Winters,” A chipper voice to his right spoke, startling him enough to jump, and stare at her with the wide-eyed expression akin to a frightened cat, “Sorry to scare you, dear, I always forget that everyone’s always a little on edge after they first wake up.” 

Mr. Winters? He blinked slowly...was he Mr. Winters? Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t too sure of just about anything right now; from his name, to where he lived, to even where he currently was now...it was all just one huge blank. 

Despite all the questions swirling around in his head the first words out of his mouth were, “I’m sorry about your floors…” His voice was strained and cracked almost painfully as he spoke. His vocal chords felt tender from just one sentence. 

The woman covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. It sounded a bit like a twittering bird. It was funny, despite the fact that he remembered absolutely nothing important, he remembered useless little things like the sound of a bird, the smell of disinfectant and what an IV was. 

She sighed with a smile and shook her head in amusement, “My my, so polite. Most patients I’ve had are rather rude when they first wake up, you know. Most people want to know what’s going on but you apologize for getting sick on the floors.” 

“Ah...sorry?” ‘Mr. Winters’ replied softly...it felt a bit like a habit to be honest. He wrung his blanket in his hands as he observed the woman a bit more closely now. She wore a white, high necked shirt with a little, glowing red cross over the center of her chest and a white pencil skirt that fell pristinely to her knees. Her dark hair was slicked back in a neat bun, and her lips were painted a somewhat startling red that stood out against her tawny brown skin. She also had a name tag..._ L. Davis _. 

“No need to apologize, Mr. Winters,” Ms. Davis said again with that friendly smile and pat his shoulder lightly, “Again, it’s nice to have a patient that’s a bit more polite.” 

“Now,” She began, raising one of her arms and pressing the button on a clunky metal band around her wrist. A small, translucent keyboard and screen appeared above it, making ‘Mr. Winters’ let out a small gasp. 

“I’m going to be running a few tests, just the simple stuff, don’t worry; testing your vitals, your pain response, and I’ll be asking a few questions,” Ms. Davis explained typing on the keyboard. Mr. Winters simply just nodded. 

The more physical tests had passed quickly, and apparently he was doing ‘exceptionally well’ and his heart and lungs had developed fully and completely so he wouldn’t need some _ extra time _ , whatever that meant. The questions were more frustrating than anything, really. The only one he had known, oddly enough, was _ “What year is it?” _. It was 2250. He had gotten the month wrong, though, he thought it was July...it was really November. Everything else was a big, fat “I don’t know.” 

_ “What’s your name?” _

“I don’t know.” 

_ “Where were you born?” _

“I don’t know.” 

_ “How old are you?” _

“I don’t know.” 

‘Mr. Winters’ was rather sick of saying the phrase, “I don’t know” now. He felt...he felt dumb, he guessed. Who didn’t know their own birthday, or even their own name? Him apparently. Ms. Davis had again pat him on the shoulder, though now that felt a little condescending, and told him that this was completely normal and that the ‘upload’ didn’t take completely right away, and he should be able to answer these questions himself soon enough. For now, though, she would give him a patient’s bracelet, which held his information. 

He stared down at the somewhat grainy picture in the holo-feed of what he assumed was him; a young man with a round face, big, blue eyes hidden behind oval framed glasses, with pale, freckled skin and thick honey colored hair. His smile was nervous, and his eyes slightly averted from the camera. Next to him were four lines that he just could not stop looking at…

_ Name: Cody C. Winters _

_ Age: 20 _

_ DOB: March 5, 2230 _

_ COD: Motor Vehicle Accident _


	3. Hole in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a collection of my original writing pieces from a creative writing class I took in college earlier this year. I don't know if I'll be adding to this at all after I post the six stories that I have polished for the final.
> 
> 1 - Snapshots  
2 - Waking Up to a Brand New You  
3 - Hole in the Sky  
4 - Moonless Night (Free-verse Poem)  
5 - Witching Hour  
6 - Hela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I had said, this a collection of short stories that I have sitting in my folders on Google Drive form my creative writing class. He had given us a ton of freedom for the stories that we would write and present to the class so there's a range here. This isn't all the stories I wrote, just the ones that I had polished for the final. I had at least three or four more that I am personally not as happy with as these.
> 
> If you like my personal writings I'll consider posting some of my newer stuff on this site as well.

_ **Birthright ** _

_ **.~.~.~.~.~.** _

_ **Prologue ** _

_ **The Hole in the Sky** _

Kayden was the first to see it. Jayden could vividly remember the expression of awe that took over his twin’s face, her gray eyes widening as she lifted her little hand up and towards the overcast sky. Jayden had tightened his grip on his mother’s hand as he followed Kayden’s line of sight. His jaw dropped, blue eyes mirroring his twin’s in sheer childish awe. The once dark gray sky, heavy with snow bearing clouds, had seemed to split open. An array of colors washed over the stunned populous of the crowded city street as the crack widened into a hole. Around them the lights of the buildings, and wide, chattering screens flickered before fading out like a dying candle, leaving the rainbow washed crowd of onlookers in a stunned and eerie silence. 

“Lookit, mommy!” Kayden said, breaking that silence with her high and childish voice, dark ringlets of hair flopping in her face as she turned her gaze to her frozen mother, “Birds!” 

What ever was flying out from the maw of that hole, Jayden thought, were most certainly  _ not birds. _

In a rush of adrenaline, his mother had scooped Jayden up into her arms, cradling the boy to her chest with one arm as she gripped Kayden’s arm with the other with force enough to possibly cause a bruise. She ignored her daughter’s whining as she burst into a run, dragging Kayden behind her, leaving her stumbling to keep up. Jayden remembered squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in his mother’s shoulder as she weaved through the stunned crowd, clinging to the back of her blouse for dear life. It seemed as if most of the other people in the crowd followed his mother’s lead, because mere seconds later mass hysteria broke out. Fighting, shoving, children crying, parents screaming all in a hurry to get away from what Kayden had dubbed  _ birds. _

Jayden only pulled his head up again they had come to a screeching halt following a deafening bang and the crackle of electricity. He stared in front of him with a mix of fear and curiosity. A tall pole stuck out crookedly out of the pavement right in front of them, taller than most telephone poles even. It looked akin to the sticks Jayden and Kayden often stuck in the soft dirt of their backyard while playing pretend, with its crooked, half hazard placement. And not too far away was another...and another, and another. Between each pole was a wall of buzzing blue electricity. It circled them, packing the crowd tight, leaving Jayden feeling lucky that he was in his mother’s arms instead of scrunched to her thigh like Kayden. Panic ruled as a man rushed the wall. A hand forced his face down against his mother’s neck, but Jayden still heard the agonized screaming. What he now knew was the stench of burnt flesh stung his nose.

The people’s cries were all suddenly hushed as something lowered into the middle of the crowd from the torn sky. Jayden had forced his head up to see. In the middle of the crowd was a man. He was tall and slim with slicked back black hair and a uniform Jayden had never seen before. It was white, with a dark blue stripe down the arm. The oddest part about the man was his face...or lack thereof. Whatever was his face was covered by a plain white mask with what seemed like two dark blue teardrops underneath fathomless dark eye holes. His ears...his ears were also  _ strange _ . They were long and pointed and looked unusually pale. Out of the corner of his face his saw his mother’s face completely drain of color, the expression on her face unreadable. 

Behind the man, two... _ things _ flapped almost lazily. They were large, the size of the child, and had blobby purple flesh with protruding veins, and a single, large, mechanical eye what shrunk and widened like the lens of a camera. The wings were mechanical as well, though a thin membrane of what could be skin stretched between metal bone. A single, long, robotic tail swayed behind it, ending in a single long and painful looking stinger. 

The man snapped a finger and an oily voice drawled out, “Separate the children.”

The screams of the crowd were a jumbled roar in Jayden’s ears as mass panic broke out at the mysterious man’s order. Those flying creatures were using their robotic tail to grab any children in sight and shoved them in a group towards the man. Some parents tried to rush towards their children only to meet the end of the creature’s barbed tail as it shoved its way through their throats and out the other end. The crimson spray coated horrified onlookers like paint, but still some parents tried, adding to the pile of corpses people were tripping and trampling over on the pavement. Jayden clung tightly to his mother’s blouse and Kayden clung to her pant leg, trembling noticeably as one of the creatures began pulling children away in their direction.

Their mother backed more toward the electric wall and the smell of ozone became more present, mingling with the scents of sweat, fear and blood. Jayden watched his mother’s bright blue eyes narrowed into slits and her teeth clench. She put her son down, and shoved both her children behind her as the creature made its way closer. Both twins were clinging to her legs now, both forgetting how to breath as the sound of wings got closer and closer. 

The creature paused in front of them, its camera lens eye focusing and unfocusing, its tail making a  _ click, click, click  _ noise with each sway. It seemed to be regarding their mother with something akin to curiosity, or amusement. Amusement that this slip of a woman was getting between it and its ordered prey. She ventured a glance toward the two children behind her, her eyes hard but so soft all at once as she looked down at their little tear stained faces.    
  
“ ** _Run!_ ** ” 

The woman burst into a sprint toward the creature, leaping at it with all the ferocity of a mother bear protecting her cubs. She dug her nails into the goopy flesh around the monster’s eye, causing it to let out a guttural noise between a gurgle and a hiss and start bucking. 

Jayden was too shocked to move and it had to be Kayden to pull him away from the scene. She dragged him behind her like a rag doll, with Jayden barely able to keep up with a stumbling run. Both of them heard metal rip through flesh, and Jayden felt for sure he was going to be sick. Blood slicked metal soon found its way to them and around their waists in a tight hold, pinning their arms to their sides its nearly choking grip. Kayden screamed and kicked, struggling against the monster’s hold, while Jayden could only sit limply in it’s grip as sticky, wet blood stained his coat. His mother’s blood. 

Jayden blacked out, going completely limp in the creature’s hold, the sounds of his sister’s high pitched screams fading into silence. 


	4. Moonless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a collection of my original writing pieces from a creative writing class I took in college earlier this year. I don't know if I'll be adding to this at all after I post the six stories that I have polished for the final.
> 
> 1 - Snapshots  
2 - Waking Up to a Brand New You  
3 - Hole in the Sky  
4 - Moonless Night (Free-verse Poem)  
5 - Witching Hour  
6 - Hela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I had said, this a collection of short stories that I have sitting in my folders on Google Drive form my creative writing class. He had given us a ton of freedom for the stories that we would write and present to the class so there's a range here. This isn't all the stories I wrote, just the ones that I had polished for the final. I had at least three or four more that I am personally not as happy with as these.
> 
> If you like my personal writings I'll consider posting some of my newer stuff on this site as well.

**Moonless Nights**

Bright eyes pierce the darkness,

Their figure is only illuminated only a sliver of silver,

And the heavy blanket of stars above.

Muscles ripple under moon kissed fur

And I hold my breath, 

My eyes on its and its on mine

Golden eyes burn like embers at the clearing edge.

I’ve heard of such beasts, of wolf and man. 

My grandmother told me to be wary,

And my mother to me to fear, 

Or this beast will devour me whole 

Without much a thought. 

It moved first. 

Its pawsteps light and measured on the crisp autumn leaves,

And I stood my ground, a beacon of red in this dark night. 

My hand did not reach for the glint of silver at my side.

Nor the monkshood in my pouch,

As the distance between us shrunk

To only 

Yards

Feet

Inches

Apart,

Until we are face to face.

It seemed to grin,

Teeth sharp and eyes even sharper.

Its warm breath tickled my skin

And it lunged.

Bone crack and pop, 

Like branches heavy with weight of snow. 

Red flutters in the breeze before dropping to the floor. 

Followed by a blade of silver and leather strung pouch, 

My arms stretched wide in welcome.

A laugh broke past my lips as we tumbled in a heap, 

Orange, gold and red tangled in our hair, 

And I gaze up

At the golden eyes, 

More golden than the leaves sticking in his hair 

That glowed warmly down at me from the face of a man. 

I threw my arms up to wrap around his neck.

Large hands planted themselves 

On either side of my head. 

My hands, so much smaller in comparison

Planted themselves on scarred and weather worn cheeks.

He leans down, 

Inches,

Centimeters

B r e a t h s 

Apart,

And his mouth is on mine,

Devouring me softly. 

So like and unlike Grandmother’s tales

For the beast turned man does devour me. 

Though, unlike the maidens and damsels, 

I welcome it.

I welcome him. 

As he swallows me whole, 

With hands and mouth, 

Breaths mingling.

Hearts syncing.

Heat rising. 

All I can see is gold and silver 

And the fire of leaves

Against the black backdrop of the moonless night sky. 

And when dawn breaks,

And the stars fade,

We part ways.

Though I will smile, knowing that we shall meet again,

Underneath the same dark moonless sky. 


	5. Witching Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a collection of my original writing pieces from a creative writing class I took in college earlier this year. I don't know if I'll be adding to this at all after I post the six stories that I have polished for the final.
> 
> 1 - Snapshots  
2 - Waking Up to a Brand New You  
3 - Hole in the Sky  
4 - Moonless Night (Free-verse Poem)  
5 - Witching Hour  
6 - Hela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I had said, this a collection of short stories that I have sitting in my folders on Google Drive form my creative writing class. He had given us a ton of freedom for the stories that we would write and present to the class so there's a range here. This isn't all the stories I wrote, just the ones that I had polished for the final. I had at least three or four more that I am personally not as happy with as these.
> 
> If you like my personal writings I'll consider posting some of my newer stuff on this site as well.

Witching Hour

The moon hung heavy in the sky, silver and round against the inky blackness of the sky. Its gentle light illuminated the worn forest path. The trees looked like black paper silhouettes against the backdrop of the star peppered sky as a slinky black form trotted the dirt path. The slick, black furred molly walked along at a leisurely pace, ice blue eyes staring ahead with a single minded determination. She wasn’t even startled by the hoot of a nearby owl or the whistle of wind through the near leafless trees. 

Her pawsteps hardly made a sound as she walked along, only moving faster as she seemingly arrived to her destination. The trees parted to a small clearing, a single rock in the center in which upon another cat laid. He was larger than the molly, with bushy gray fur and a thick tail that was swishing impatiently behind him as bright yellow eyes met blue. 

“About time, Lisel,” The tom mewed, sitting up looking down at the black cat approaching him. His movement revealed a small, moleskin pouch hanging loosely around his neck from a leather chord, “It wouldn’t do well for the Master of Ceremonies to be late, now would it?” 

“Oh hush, Gregory,” Lisel hummed, a purr edging her soft voice as she licked at her paw and raised it to swipe at her ear, “I am perfectly on time...the moon had yet to reach the sky’s center anyways.” 

Gregory fixed the molly with a look, his somewhat squashed looking face twisting into some sort of scowl as he jumped down and landed neatly next to her. 

“If you keep making that face,” She hummed, purposely hitting the tom-cat in the face with her tail as she passed, “It’ll get stuck like that, you know.” 

Gregory only grumbled, a soft growl rising in his throat, before following after her. They ventured into the woods again, paws crunching through much more leaves this time as they veered off the path. Neither of them seemed too worried by this, though, as if they walked this self made path through the dense woods a million times before. 

The journey was mostly made in silence, letting the sounds of autumn permeate the air as the two cats plodded through leaves and pushed themselves through thickets. Soon, though, the sound of crackling fire joined the fray, signaling they were close to their destination. The thick scent of smoke filled her nostrils and Lisel purred, picking up the pace. The transformation was swift and painless, despite the joints and bones twisting, cracking, growing. Black fur receded, revealing peach skin and long ears shifted and rounded on her head, though they were soon covered by a mass of dark, shiny hair that hung down to her hips and silky waves. Plump lips curved into a smile as she stopped and turned. She turned to Gregory, a grin on her face. She seemed just as comfortable in this form, as naked as could be, as she was in the form of the cat she was in just seconds ago.

Gregory, of course, was already in his human form, thin lips pursed as he snapped his fingers a wooden cane appearing in his meaty hands. He had already pulled his clothing from the bottomless pouch and had slipped them on in the midst of his companion’s transformation. He grumbled and fiddled with a few stubborn clasps, eyes averted towards the ground, cheeks as red as the leaves decorating the forest floor. He tossed Lisel the bag, or at least tossed the bag in Lisel’s general direction. 

Let her get her own clothes, he thought, bottom of his cane digging into the dirt as he walked forward, hand wrapped around the crystal sphere at the top. Black robes, which seemed to not fit him as correctly as the once did anymore, fluttered slightly in the breeze as he started to leave Lisel in the dust, wishing to get this over with already so he could go home and, I don’t know,  _ sleep _ .

A soft snicker left the woman’s lips as she watched him go. They have known each other for well over a decade or two and the man still got flustered with a little nudity. She gripped the pouch in her hands and reached inside, her arm reaching in almost comically deep. Lisel gleefully pulled out a long, maroon robe from the pouch, her already present grin widening. When was the last time she wore this? A decade at least. She hummed and shimmied it on, slipping shiny golden buttons through the holes until she reached the last at her throat. From the pouch she also pulled a hat. It was a tall, pointed hat of crushed, dark red velvet...one of her favorites, really, despite the cliche. She put it on and banished the pouch. She’ll summon it back when she and Gregory were ready to leave. She then snapped her fingers and a staff appeared in her waiting palm. It was less neat than Gregory’s cane, with its gnarled and crooked edges and rough cut rubies embedded into the ancient wood. It was her focus of choice, though, and she thought it suited her perfectly.

* * *

Lisel practically skipped ahead, reaching the field soon after Gregory. The moon bathed the grass and silver glow, mixing with the orange light of the fire burning in the large wood pile in the center. Several people milled about around the fire. They were mostly women, one or two other men besides Gregory, all in black robes, murmuring excitedly amongst each other. Lisel found a pang of sadness in her chest...there once were a lot more of them, a long time ago...but times change, she supposed. 

Blue eyes landed on the only spot of white in a sea of silver, black and orange. A child, no more than eight, clung to an older woman’s robes. His own robe, which was white, made him catch her eye immediately. He was a plump child, with rosy, freckled colored cheeks and pumpkin orange hair that stood out from his head in wild, loose, curls. She smiled softly, remembering a long distant time where there would ten or more white robed children running around on this night, all excited to take a part in their birthright. Now, though...there was only one. 

Though, she should be glad for at least one, as this child was the reason they were here tonight. They were here to welcome a new witch into the Ashwick Coven...the only witch born in New England in the past decade...a little boy named Oliver Hayes. 


	6. Hela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a collection of my original writing pieces from a creative writing class I took in college earlier this year. I don't know if I'll be adding to this at all after I post the six stories that I have polished for the final.
> 
> 1 - Snapshots  
2 - Waking Up to a Brand New You  
3 - Hole in the Sky  
4 - Moonless Night (Free-verse Poem)  
5 - Witching Hour  
6 - Hela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I had said, this a collection of short stories that I have sitting in my folders on Google Drive form my creative writing class. He had given us a ton of freedom for the stories that we would write and present to the class so there's a range here. This isn't all the stories I wrote, just the ones that I had polished for the final. I had at least three or four more that I am personally not as happy with as these.
> 
> If you like my personal writings I'll consider posting some of my newer stuff on this site as well.

_ **Hela** _

* * *

Long ago, Hela was banished to this realm cloaked with a thick and ever present mist. It was oppressive yet comforting all the same to her in her hundreds of years in near solitude. She did not count the spirits of deceased as good company, for most were lost in a sea of their own memories or blank slates waiting for their rebirth in the endless cycle of life and death. These were her subjects, though, and despite not thinking of them as good company, she tended to them all the same. Unlike Odin’s Valkyries, the Queen of Death did not pick favorites. She did not care for how they died, nor how notable their deaths were. They were the dead all the same. They were  _ hers _ ...from the smallest of infants to the oldest of crones. They were her subjects - the meat of her kingdom, and in a sense, her purpose. 

Normally, she did not venture far from the bounds of her castle of rugged and blackened granite into the fog drenched outer reaches of Niflheim, but these deaths...these deaths had struck something in her very core. It was not everyday one of her kin were slain, much less two. 

Hela cut an opposing figure in the mist with her cloak, a long and flowing sea of black trailing behind her. It contrasted what remained of once thick blonde hair, clinging to the right side of her scalp still while the other half had long since fallen away. She was taller than most men and had an almost unnaturally elongated and willowy appearance. Once round and youthful cheeks had shallowed, revealing dangerously sharp features and sunken red eyes that shown sharply like rubies in the sunlight. Her skin was nearly translucent and taunt against every bone in her body with blackened patches of rot pulling away at her flesh, revealing some teeth on the left half of her face. Hela was not a woman who was pretty nor charming, so she did not feel offended when the two shaking children before her screamed at the mere sight of her, devolving into sobbing messes on the ground before her. Still, she let what could of been a tender smile tug at her lips looking down at them.

* * *

Hela had watched the two children grow forlornly from a silver mirror her father had gifted her as a child when she had first inherited this realm. He had called it a spyglass, though it looked just like an ordinary hand mirror. She remembered clearly his long fingered and spindly hand resting on her shoulder as he explained. 

_ “My dear Hela...if have ever the urge to see outside of your realm you need only say the name of what you wish to see and the mirror shall show you.”  _

It was something she had used often as a child, as lonely as she was. She used it to watch her father, her older brothers, to see a clear and sunny day, to spot the constellations in a crisp and clear night sky, but eventually she had stopped using it. It was like a porthole to a world she was not allowed to be apart of anymore...it had made her feel too much too strongly. So, she had wrapped the silver mirror in a cloth and placed it within the inky depths of her vanity draws, meaning to never look into its taunting gaze again. 

And yet she had looked. 

Call it the worry of a daughter, but she had wished to check on her father after a few centuries of little to no contact. She had whispered his name to the mirror, “ _ Loki _ ” and had been shocked at what she saw. He had brought two more children into the world with a woman named Sigyn...his wife. At first Hela had felt the flame of jealousy burn deep in her gut at the life the two seemingly normal boys were having with her father...and how happy her mischief seeking father was with his new, more normal, Aesir family. Neither of those children, Nari and Vali, were a world circling serpent, nor an ever growing wolf...nor were they her, a half dead and half living monstrosity of a Goddess. She felt this often as a child, but rarely now as a grown woman: the petulant and childish jealousy of those who had what she didn’t. She had thought she had long numbed herself to those feelings in her monotonous life, but now they had reawakened in her blackened heart. She hated those children, her father, and that woman...but yet she continued on watching. 

A foreign feeling started to blossom within her as she watched Nari and Vali grow. It was strange...something she had not felt for anyone but her older sibling and, at one time, her father...a fondness. She held a fondness for these two curious and innocent children that were her younger brothers. She had found herself looking forward to their daily antics. She found herself whispering encouragement to them as they took up their first weapons and had their first tastes of magic. She found herself going from hating them to...to loving them...her little brothers. 

She had been watching them so diligently from the spyglass she had witnessed something that she desperately wished she could scrub from her mind for all of eternity. Hela was no stranger to disembowelment, to carnage and blood, bone and flesh, just as no Aesir was a stranger to the sword or the merriment of feast or the taste of mead. She had seen a great many types of horrible deaths, as it showed on the ghostly forms of her people when they were still fresh and in denial. 

She was not sure the crime, but her brothers were used as the punishment. The mirror was clenched tightly in her white knuckled hands as she watched in growing horror as the All Father hovered over the two weeping children, as men held back their parents.

“ ** _They’re just children!_ ** ” Loki had screamed, and Hela found herself echoing, voice strained by the tears that angrily rose from her eyes. They froze half way down her cheeks as the scene unfurled. 

It happened so quickly. Odin had used his power as the All Father to turn the youngest, Vali, into the form of a wolf. He screamed in sheer agony, bones twisting and popping as he contorted on the cave ground, sobbing quickly turning into mournful howls as the boy finally became a beast. Still shaking from pain, Odin forced the wolf upon his brother. Sharp teeth dug into the tender flesh of Nari’s stomach, ripping and tearing, spilling blood everywhere. 

She threw the spyglass, watching it shatter against the wall in a million pieces. Nari’s screaming still ringing in her ears, even as she made her way out of the throne room, and down the steps of her palace. 

All she felt was rage. How  _ dare  _ the All Father!  _ How dare he!  _ She seethed silently. She had never felt any hint of fondness for Odin; he was the one who put her down here after all, but this was a new low. Nari and Vali...they were innocent. Why punish them to punish her father? Her father...this was all his fault, was it not? His mischief had gone too far and now  _ this _ . 

* * *

She took in a long breath and tried her best to smile down at the frightened children now. They stared up at her with murky eyes once as blue as the sky and so full of life. Vali clung to his twin’s side, gripping his arm tightly as he twitched and spasmed occasionally, the slit in his throat still slowly dripping blood down his already soaked front. His legs were still bend in a dog-like bow and nose still half way a snout and coated with blood. Nari stood a bit straighter, even as his intestines continued to spill from his stomach, trailing behind him like a bloody rope. Now was not the time for this, she decided, staring down at them. For now she had to bring her brothers home. 

She held a hand out in front of her and waved over the boys, watching their ghostly bodies shift painlessly back to how they were before, though their eyes remained murky and dead...as were all her subjects. 

“Welcome to my realm, dear ones. I am Hela, the ruler of this place...and your sister,” She said, he own voice sounding so foreign to her...a strange and soft sound. Slowly, she held out a hand, and, to her surprise, Nari and Vali took it. 


End file.
